


The labor of my love

by salytierra (octavaluna)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Human & Country Names Used, Iberian Brothers, Siblings, and canon if you count rome?, but it's a death scene, more like OC death, not actually major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: Portugal is not Lusitania.But Spain doesn't know that. He never found out and this is the story ofwhy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Story written listening to "warriors" by Imagine Dragons in the background, hence the title. 
> 
> This is a headcanon that I use when my RP partner and I don't agree on their ages. Lusitania is a big part of Antonio's childhood memories, but they are kinda fussy. I never thought I'd write this but I needed to get this out of my chest.  
> I just... love the iberibros SO MUCH! 
> 
> ps: This supposedly happens in 868, a few days after the reconquest of what today is Porto by Vímara Peres

 

Life is a capricious mother and more often than not it's evil and cruel to the extreme. Taking what we love the most from us and taking ourselves from those that love us the most. However, the games she plays are only of her own design and whatever gods are up there just watch in silence and interest as the events she'd woven into a complicated net unveil and take a new shape. 

  
Lusitania - _or Suebi, he'd gone by both names but still remained the same somehow, till now_ \- opened his eyes, turning slowly his head towards the darkness in the far corner of the room. There, a child that looked almost his age, but was only a few weeks old and a millennia younger, spied on him from the shadows, dressed in them like a cloak. But there was nothing he had to fear from the moribund province. Light like the air he stepped closer, the moonlight lighting up his features; soft skin and deep green eyes with aquamarine streaks, full lips and cheeks still shaped like a boy's. He looked so much like the Kingdom of Toledo (like Celtiberia, Tarraconensis, and now Astur...) that Lusitania's heart wept with longing and sorrow. More powerful, however, was the knowledge that the boy looked exactly like him. Almost a mirror reflection if not for his youth and the tiny mark under his right eye.

"You are dying. Why are you dying? We took you away from the Umayyad, we saved you."

"I'm dying because it's my time." Lusitania smiled weakly. "And because it's time you took my place."

"Why me?"

"Because you were created for this. Because you are the resistance and you are the premonition that a new kingdom will emerge from the bones of this place. My death is your true birth. You know... _coff-_ can feel it."

"And you must die for that?"

"I hoped I wouldn't have to. I leave too much behind." The other kid said nothing, letting him talk, a task that was becoming more difficult by the second. "There's a boy. A sweet little ray of sunshine and affection. Too sweet, too loving and yet the strongest, more stubborn brat I know. I love him more than life itself, and he'd move the skies and mountains for me. He works and fights harder than anyone, bloody hands and all. He won't give up, he won't bow. Not to the Umayyad, nor anybody. He's the heart of the resistance. He's going to reconquer what was once his, no matter how long it takes him. And there's nothing he considers more his, nothing he will fight harder for than me. He's looking for me. He will never stop looking for me and when he only finds you... he must never know."

"Oh..." Realization dawned on the younger child "Oh... It's- My Lord Astur! He is what's left of the Kingdom of Toledo."

Lusitania's dry lips stretched in a hint of a smile at the sound of the word. "Yes, our lovely little brother. Well, older for you, but he'll never find out about that. A part of him never gave up so he survived against all odds, and so must I. Call yourself whatever you want, hide from him until you are ready. But when you finally stand face to face, make sure he doesn't know. It- it would break him. As much as I would have preferred to live, I would't have known how to do it without him, and I can't force him to live in a world without me. He wants to see me again so much he'll ignore all the signs, he'll believe anything..."

Summoning the last of his strength Lusitania grabbed the boy's arm drawing him in and looking him in the eye.

"I'm dying so you can take my place. Then do it, take my place and live in my stead. But wherever Antonio is concerned, you _are_ me. Learn to be like me, study my life and memories, wear my face and love him like I do. It will be easy for you, he's so easy to love. Do this for me, since you are taking my life, swear it on the Lord here and now so I can leave in peace. Look after him from the earth as I will from the skies."

"I- I--"

"Swear it!"

"I swear!" Lusitania tightened his grip "I swear on God and the Holy Trinity!"

"Good..." Completely out of breath now Lusitania let his had fall down. "I'm going to go now... to take my place above, with my mother, with Rome. I can almost see their faces, hear them calling me. I leave _\- coff-_ my... my most precious possession in your hands, this is my last gift for him. Take care of my lands and take care of my people. But above all, take care of my dearest, little brother."

He could see them now, clearer than ever, his mother, Rome... they were beckoning him, extending their hands so he could reach out for one and pull himself up. But before doing so he flicked his gaze again to the sniffing child by his deathbed.

"One last thing... what is your name?"

"They call me Portucale. They tell me I'm going to become a county soon."

"Aim higher. Aim for a kingdom; aim for Empire." And with that, Lusitania closed his eyes and took his mother's hand.

 

***

 

"Oh, they discovered more Roman ruins under a construction site." Spain announced, waving his smartphone from where he was chilling in the living room. "Rome was right when he told us that we'd never get rid of him, remember that?"

"Yeah." Portugal lied absentmindedly, as it had been a second nature to him for his entire life. Ever since he stood for the first time before the nobles of Oviedo like the newly proclaimed vassalage of Portugale and the unbreakable Kingdom of Astur threw himself into his arms crying like a baby. The connection had been immediate, the love too. 

He didn't remember, but he knew by now everything that Spain thought he was supposed to remember, and that was good enough. Antonio had feared him lost and getting him back gave way to a suffocating protectiveness that slowly transitioned into an obsession. Throughout the centuries of fierce warring, rebellions, of hurting each other, of rivalry, of rage and betrayal, he could have shattered Spain's world so easily just with a few sentences, but he hadn't been able too. Because that promise had been sealed with the price of his existence and that love never went away. No victory would have ever been worth the consequences of Antonio finding out the truth.

"He was a smug bastard." Portugal decided to close the topic. "Now get that fat ass off my sofa and help me with dinner if you are staying over."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Are u crying too? Tell me if you are. 
> 
> Anyway, I guess Antonio suspected something at the beginning, but he's been living in deep, deep denial since the late 800's, yay!


End file.
